


Rest

by femmethem



Category: Alex Stern - Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Rated T for language, they actually get some fucking rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmethem/pseuds/femmethem
Summary: Something Alex has noticed since she started spending more time at Il Bastone, since Dawes stopped scurrying away to hide every time she came over, is that Dawes can fall asleep just about anywhere.
Relationships: Alex Stern/Pamela Dawes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> gosh i really just banged this out while procrastinating another project and didn't edit at all. can you believe this is the first alex/dawes fic on this website? let's fix that together. (also accepting alex/dawes/darlington fics for the cause)

Something Alex has noticed since she started spending more time at Il Bastone, since Dawes stopped scurrying away to hide every time she came over, is that Dawes can fall asleep just about anywhere. 

Alex finds her snoozing tucked into armchairs with her headphones gone askew and a book still cracked open in her lap. She stumbles in on her passed out at the kitchen table, a glass of water precariously close to where she rests her head. Alex decides she’s had enough when she walks in to find Dawes asleep in the foyer, sitting on the floor with her head resting against the wood-paneled wall and her knees drawn up to her body. She knows Dawes was waiting up for her, keeping watch over the door that she had once failed to guard.

She nudges Dawe’s shoulder with a bend of her knee and places a hand on her head. Her red hair is soft but tangled and twisted under Alex’s touch. “Up and fucking at ‘em, babe,” she says, gentler than she thought she was capable of.

Dawes startles, and Alex’s hand slides down further into the tangle of her hair. She can’t bring herself to move it away entirely, so she settles for putting a reassuring weight on the other woman’s shoulder. Her eyes blink up at Alex blearily. Alex swears the lights dim in response, and a small hum from the house confirms her suspicions. Dawes makes a bold attempt at consciousness, sitting upright and mumbling something about sandwiches.

Alex shakes her head, even though her black hole of a stomach could always go for one of Dawes’ sandwiches. She offers her hands to Dawes, hauls her up to her feet. “Let’s just get some rest. I have to read thirty pages of early modern political philosophy before class tomorrow, and I feel like I’m dead right now.”

“You would know,” Dawes slurs, leaning a little on Alex as they start up the stairs. Her weight feels nice against Alex, her taupe-colored sweatshirt warm against Alex’s touch-starved skin. Alex smiles, thinks she might be rubbing off on Dawes if she’s able to joke about that particular experience even while impaired by sleepiness.

Dawes forehead wrinkles when they get to the second floor. “Where are you taking me?” she asks. Alex just tugs her toward Dante’s room.

“It’s bullshit that you don’t get your own room, you know that?” she says, indignant. She won’t go as far as to say Dawes does _all_ the hard work, but Alex certainly wouldn’t have made it through a single week after Darlington’s disappearance without her. She puts just enough weight on Dawes’ shoulders to get her to sit on the edge of the bed. 

She looks around in drowsy confusion. “Where will you sleep?”

“Right here, dumbass. I’m not letting you kick me out.” Alex steps away to set her bag down and toe off her shoes. She debates for a moment before shrugging out of her sweater.

She throws herself down on the other side of the bed and waits anxiously for Dawes to lie down next to her. This room, this bed still feel foreign to her after almost two full semesters. She hardly ever stays in Dante’s quarters. She thinks it might help to have some company.

Dawes yanks her headphones off and sets them on the bedside table. The skin of her neck is flushed red from where they’d been trapped between her and the wall as she slept. One particularly harsh indent looks like a gaping wound. Alex closes her eyes. The bed shifts under her, mattress springs squeaking as Dawes swings the rest of her body up and over. Alex can hear her head sink into the pillow. When she opens her eyes, Dawes is facing her, gaze unfocused but settled on Alex’s. “Thank you.”

Alex snorts and reaches out to trace the indent on Dawe’s neck with a shaky index finger. “Don’t worry about it.”

Her nose crinkles unhappily in response, as if to say, _Good luck, I worry about everything._ She leans into Alex’s touch though, the disorderly hair escaping from her bun now close enough to tickle Alex’s chin. Her eyes flutter closed, and Alex notices how light her eyelashes are, almost blonde. They cast dark shadows in the dim light of the room.

Alex reaches gingerly to turn off the lamp next to the bed. Dawes is jostled a bit regardless, but she simply hums and slides her head down to rest on Alex’s shoulder. She feels the weight of it acutely, thinks about the way Dawes would hardly look at her less than a year ago. She moves her hand to the other woman’s rib cage and feels her breath start to sync up with Dawes’ as they both drift to sleep.


End file.
